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This week’s blog doesn’t focus on anything specific; it’s more a myriad of musings and mental meanderings from the last week or so – although, behind it all, is an important message on the merits of just showing up – indulge me, if you will…

Making excuses not to Show Up

I have been feeling pushed for time – or rather, as though I don’t have enough time to commit to giving this blog the attention it deserves – but if I’m honest with myself, I have been prioritising other activities; ones that are instantly gratifying, instead of writing a blog post that feels challenging and uncomfortable.

The path to creativity isn’t linear: there are times when my creative juices are almost overflowing, I am so enthused with insights and ideas and I derive so much pleasure from my writing; at other times, I get the infamous writer’s block and anything I write seems boring or trivial or insincere or try-to-hard. So I’ve been putting it off under the guise of not having enough time.

But I am lucky and blessed to have creative endeavors that bring me joy and give me purpose and today I have made the choice to just show up…

Volunteering Works

I recently attended a Community Volunteering Fair in one of Glasgow’s most deprived areas. On one hand, this brought volunteering to the collective awareness of the handful of locals who showed up on the day; they got to enjoy a light buffet and an opportunity to chat with different volunteering opportunity providers (for those of you not involved in Glasgow’s thriving Third sector, a volunteering opportunity provider is a not-for-profit or charitable organisation that involves volunteers and provides opportunities for people to volunteer) from the local area and beyond. There were many happy faces leaving with contact details of opportunity providers and a platter of leftover pastries and this made it all worthwhile.

We had been expecting a good attendance from the local community: considerable time and effort had gone into planning the event, distributing leaflets and posters, and canvasing local organisations, encouraging them to spread the word and encourage service users to pop along for cheery banter and a bite to eat.

Unfortunately, a local person was murdered in the early hours of the morning and the Police had streets on either side of the venue cordoned off while they conducted door to door enquiries; nobody within the vicinity of the please cordon was allowed in or out their homes. This would surely have affected footfall at the event. I can only speculate that other folk from surrounding areas would also be disinclined to leave the relative safety of their own homes in light of the circumstances.

I had briefly worked in this area many years previously and I never took to it. I couldn’t wait to get out of there once the event was over. The murder cast a veil of darkness over the day and I couldn’t wait to return to the light.

Of course, this left me feeling guilty: guilty that I could escape back to the relative safety and sanity of my own world in a leafy suburb that rarely witnesses crime of this nature; guilty that I had assumed that violence of this nature was relatively normal for local residents and therefore, somehow less shocking or unsettling; guilty because, as my father would say, “but for the grace of God go I”: in other words, it so often comes down to good fortune where you end up in life. You could be born in an area where life chances are limited, and raised by a generation of parents and grandparents who don’t aspire to much more than claiming welfare, through absolutely no fault of your own. Your early circumstances have a knock-on effect on everything including your ability to access decent education, healthcare and employment opportunities. This, in turn, affects physical health and mental wellbeing – even life expectancy.

It isn’t fair.

I can choose to let guilt consume me but a more positive, proactive choice is to be grateful for my own good fortune and to commit to supporting those who are lesser off to access opportunities to boost their wellbeing and overall life chances. I’ve worked in this role or similar for over twenty years and I’m a huge advocate of volunteering and its various benefits for physical health and mental wellbeing. I would say volunteering levels the playing field somewhat because you don’t need special skills or qualifications to get involved, and people who lack opportunities in, say mainstream education, can gain access to opportunities to learn new skills, boost confidence and feelings of self-worth and to meet new people.

Grief and loss

My role involves supporting people to volunteer and some are more vulnerable than others. This week, I encountered a lovely, recently widowed older gentleman who was seeking a driving role to get him out the house and to alleviate the loneliness he was experiencing following the passing of his beloved wife.

We spoke on the phone and I arranged for him to meet with me at my place of work. My intention was to identify a couple of suitable volunteering options but I had set aside plenty of time in case he wanted to talk about his loss. My Dad passed away less than a year ago so I understand the pain of losing a loved one and the void it leaves behind. For this man, a full-time carer of over twenty years for his wife who had MS, that void will feel even greater. He spoke about how busy the house would get with different people including carers – coming and going all day, every day. He remembers wishing he could have just one hour to himself – yet now, the house is empty and silent and so desperately lonely. His West Highland terrier goes everywhere with him. She barely leaves his side following the death of his wife. I wondered aloud if perhaps one of the reasons she stays so close was because she senses his suffering and wants to provide comfort.

I was more than happy to provide a listening ear as he shared his grief and feelings of loss and sadness. I sensed our conversation was cathartic, in providing a sense of release and gaining the knowledge that he was not alone. Grief and loss are so common – we all experience it at different stages – yet our experiences are subjective, so unique to each and every individual, it can feel like an incredibly lonely and isolating experience. I think he felt reassured that his own experience was a normal, natural and sadly, inevitable part of the grieving process.

Grief isn’t linear; nor does it have a specific timeline before a person feels they can move forward in a positive way. I read somewhere that it becomes part of you; a ball inside of you around which you grow. I find this oddly reassuring. In the more acute stages, shortly after my Dad died, I felt the need to tend to my grief now and again. I become aware of ‘it’ building up inside of me and would recognise the need to set aside the time to intentionally grieve. Most of the time this happened quite organically: I could be out for a walk and it would occur to me to listen to a piece of music that Dad enjoyed. From there, I would move on to the funeral playlist I compiled. It didn’t bother me what others might think if they saw me passing by, headphones on, tears streaming down my face. It’s okay, really it is. It’s good to let it out.

I find it helpful to reframe grief as something that belongs to me, that needs to be nurtured and tended to; it provides comfort, as though I am carrying around with me a piece of Dad. So long as I have my grief, I have Dad. It’s a hard feeling to articulate and this experience may not resonate with everybody but if you’ve lost someone, I think you will understand.

In memory of Agatha

In my counselling session on Thursday, my counsellor and I got to discussing my childhood pet, Agatha – a yellow canary who was, despite the name, actually a male. My mum only got him because he matched the kitchen units. This probably tells you all you need to know about my Mum…

I was only a child when we got Agatha so too young to appreciate that birds shouldn’t be kept in cages. I was only aware of the joy that Agatha brought to our household. My Mum used to listen to the radio while she was cooking or cleaning up and I remember Agatha leaping onto his swing and singing along to Roy Orbison with all the gusto of an operatic tenor. His glorious song would reverberate around the house and many years after his passing, my sister and I still maintained we could hear the faint echoes of Agatha’s song whenever we visited our parents’ house. It fills my heart with gratitude that, despite being spent behind bars, Agatha’s life was seemingly a long and happy one.

Fashion Failure

On a lighter note, does anybody have a working-from-home “outfit” they’ve accidentally worn out of the house?

I have an oversized sweatshirt that’s both cozy and comfortable and, in itself, reasonably stylish. It’s what I pair it with that tends to relegate the entire outfit to the confines of “never to be seen outside of the house”. This involves a pair of unflattering (but comfy as hell), high waisted, saggy bottomed, cuffed legged, what are essentially pyjama bottoms.

I was rushing (as its my usual MO) to leave the house for the aforementioned counselling appointment, when I realised I was wearing this less than stylish ensemble…for the fifth week in a row (I hasten to add, it has been washed between sessions). My counsellor and I actually had a giggle over it the previous week. Even though it risked me missing my bus and being late for the session, I decided to change the top. I’ll be honest, it didn’t occur to me to change the bottoms although perhaps they should have been the priority…

I threw on the same hoody I’d been wearing the previous day because it was closest to hand and dashed downstairs. It was then I realised I was putting on a Nike jacket (because despite being June, it’s apparently Winter again) and Nike trainers – with an Adidas hoody (under Fashion Law, this is not allowed).

Adding insult to injury, the hoody was Navy and the trousers were Black which has forever been a colour combo no-no for me. This look earned me all manner of ridicule from family members who have many times been on the receiving end of my “you’re not wearing Navy and Black together?!” rants of disgust.

Shrugging nonchalantly, with a nod to my eccentricities, I headed out the door…only to catch a glimpse of my reflection in a passing window and saw:

A 5’0 tall middle-aged woman wearing a long, puffy cream Nike jacket with black trim with a Navy hoody peaking out the top and black cuffed trousers peaking out the bottom; a canary yellow crossbody bag and neon orange Nike trainers. To top it off, I was sporting a camo print baseball cap. Basically I looked like a teenage boy/fashion disaster/riot of mismatched colour/brands. It was a chaotic look, to say the least.

Fortunately, at my age, I’m a too old to give two hoots…

TikTok

I am still learning TikTok and one of the takeaways from my early experience is how much fun I am having just creating content on this platform.

This comes as something of a surprise to me as I had only ever used TikTok as a consumer – and even then only on the odd occasion – rather than a creator of content. It has become somewhat addictive and taken my attention away from my blog – which is ironic considering the only reason I started creating content on TikTok was to promote the blog to other wellness followers and creators…

The TikTok experience has built my confidence in terms of creating little wellness-inspired clips and I have loved being able to fulfil that part of myself – but has left me doubting my ability as a blogger. I see other bloggers posting content almost daily and I don’t feel confident of being able to do the same even though I know this is not expected or even the norm. The reality is that the only person putting pressure on me to post is myself: after all, it’s very early days as far as this blog is concerned and I’ve yet to build a following to whom I can be held accountable.

Still, accountability, even it’s only to myself, and consistency, are two of the habits I am trying to cultivate; they are important to me because I know that demonstrating these qualities is what it takes to make this work over the longer-term. It took a lot of procrastinating before I got to this stage and I was proud of myself for finally getting started – I don’t want to let myself down by not fulfilling the promise I made to myself to follow a dream of writing and a sense of purpose which is to share wellness-related content in the hope that it will benefit others.

I learned a valuable lesson this week after falling foul of TikTok’s community guidelines: I posted a video which I had created using the Canva app. It received just a handful of views compared to others which had easily reached over 500. I assumed it was glitch and was feeling frustrated because I was particularly pleased with this creation. I had designed something suitably aesthetically pleasing in the vein of other wellness content and included some inspiring words about achieving inner peace. I’d felt sure this was the one to finally go viral but alas, it wasn’t to be.

A little digging later, I concluded that the low views stemmed from the unoriginal nature of my content. It was a humbling experience. I had fallen into the trap of using an app to create what I felt would be visually appealing to others and in doing so, had completely abandoned my own values and authenticity. I had done the single, greatest thing I dislike about TikTok as a platform and social media in general – I had posted entirely with the intention of gaining views, likes and followers. The TikTok algorithm called me out by failing to recommend my clip for the For You page which meant the video bombed.

Upon reflection, I could see the post was lazy and unoriginal. Sure, it looked the part – but this was largely thanks to an app which provides access to hundreds of ready-made templates, and aesthetics designed to help create clips that are both pleasing to the eye and effective in capturing potential viewers’ attention. There is minimal effort involved in selecting clips and piecing them together and including a few words to inspire or motivate.

I thought I’d put in the effort because I dedicated a little time to merging some pretty clips together but what I hadn’t included was my own voice. My content was a lot of fun to create, and it looked slick and pretty – but it wasn’t original, it didn’t tell the viewer anything about me, and it certainly won’t make a difference in this world. It was completely inauthentic which is entirely the opposite of what I hope to achieve with any of the content I put out.

I know lots of people who turns their noses up at so-called influencers or content creators; they think they’re work-shy because their jobs look different from a previous generation’s idea of what a ‘real’ job looks like; they see images of beautiful, healthy-looking young people apparently living their best lives and they assume that all of this comes easy; they disregard everything that takes place behind the scenes, what it takes to consistently produce content that, like or not, consistently gains thousands of views, likes and shares; they think they’re putting out content that is toxic to a vulnerable generation of social media users but I think this often stems from a fear of anything that looks different from what they know, anything that’s foreign or that challenges their own ideas or world view.

What I see are many, many content creators whose content is entirely their own; who create everything from scratch, filming their own content or using their own images, who put themselves ‘out there’ in doing so, making themselves vulnerable and risking ridicule and outright hatred from so-called keyboard warriors; creators who dedicate time and effort into producing content that looks great and which can promote positive wellbeing if taken with a tiny pinch of salt and healthy reality check.

I say this because some of this content can be misleading – I very much doubt their lives are quite as fabulous as the content suggests, or that the content itself is a genuine reflection of their day-to-day: nobody’s life is all sunshine, toned glutes and iced matcha – and how do they maintain all that whiter than white bedding? All that does is give me anxiety over the inevitable mascara stains on the pillowcases.

But they’re in the business of selling a dream and some of them are doing it very well. I know I get sucked into these visions of wellness that have me skipping down to Boots for the latest moisturiser, promising to give me that elusive ‘glow-up’, or filling up a vase with gorgeous flowers as per the latest trend on ‘beautifying my space’.

I don’t want to go down the rabbit hole of debating the rights and wrongs of sharing this kind of content (because I’d be here all day) but I can see that a lot of content does, in effect, sum up what’s wrong with society and the wellness industry specifically: beauty over substance, perfectionism, consumerism. It looks hellova pretty but it does make me compare myself to others (women half my age) and find myself ‘less than’; it feeds into the narrative that you’re past your prime at 30, that you have to look a certain way or aspire to have all the latest ‘toys’ (all of which costs money many of us don’t have) in order to fit this perfect image of wellness and success.

This is a downside for sure. I get that. But some of the content is motivating and inspiring precisely because it does create an illusion of a better life and I don’t think that’s necessarily a bad thing.

I did purchase the moisturiser and I did fill the vase and, let me tell you, my skin’s never looked better and my flowers bring me joy every time I pass them by. It’s not perfection – not even close – and it won’t contribute to those elusive feelings of lasting happiness, but I prefer to think of TikTok as a fun way to promote little happiness hacks instead of some kind of toxic, malevolent force destined to destroy our confidence and fill us with self-doubt.

From my perspective, some of this content provides a way to celebrate the little things in our lives that promote wellbeing and spark joy – like getting up early, enjoying an outdoor walk in the sun, mindfully sipping a cup of tea, and listening to birdsong – even if the way it’s promoted can seem, well, a little disingenuous. I think as long as you recognise this – and accept it’s neither a reflection of reality or a quick fix for unhappiness or all that ails us, you can enjoy the content and there are some valuable takeaways that might help us tweak our own routines in a way that is helpful for our mental wellbeing.

Some of the wellness content on TikTok and other platforms, promote routines that aren’t realistic or achievable for most people and certainly not for me. I have an ordinary job that is far from glamourous (but which does provide, in its own small way, an opportunity to make a difference to the lives of others by highlighting the benefits of volunteering and supporting more people to get involved) and I value sleeping in till 7/7.30am over super early starts; I choose Quiet Time to gently break in the day and I try to focus on 2-3 activities that make me happy and boost my wellbeing. I wish I could squeeze in more yoga and I wish my glutes looked like that girl’s but I don’t wish it enough to sacrifice the other things in my life that I value more.

But in the context of showing up in an authentic way, I want my content to reflect who I am even when that means showing up in the messiest way possible with my procrastinating, mismatched clothes and habit tracker fixation.

Via TikTok, I hope to reach an audience of 40-something women who want to improve – not fix – themselves. Maybe women who, like me, really enjoyed their younger years but have found the transition to ‘proper adulting’ really rather challenging and who want to feel healthier, happier and more resilient to life’s obstacles. We might not have the abs or the glow of our younger, more social media-savvy counterparts, and gravity may no longer be on our sides, but we do have many years’ of life experience and wisdom to share with the younger generation. Life doesn’t finish at 40; it’s just the start of a new chapter. Anxiety has played a big role in my adult life but now I get to grow from that experience and to share what I’ve learned with others. Like making Lemonade out of lemons.

Seediness

The word ‘seedy’ is often used to describe dodgy bars or nightclubs.

But for me, it represents a feeling. Seedy means feeling ‘off’: no specific symptoms, I’m just not quite myself. I might feel a little nauseas, sluggish, demotivated; perhaps a little anxious and low.

I feel seedy when I’ve not been looking after myself properly. I don’t mean this in a berating myself kind of way; more that I prefer to be accountable for what’s created the seediness. If I am accountable, it means I can take steps to avoid seediness in the future or to alleviate the symptoms in the moment.

Having recently finished my period which often leaves me feeling depleted, I had not been getting enough sleep, and had played tennis three days in a row and not given myself the chance to recover properly. I had also reduced my carb intake in a last-ditched attempt to shift a few stubborn pounds before my summer holiday in under 4 week’s time. On Tuesday, seediness reared its ugly head and threatened to dictate the outcome of my day – until I acknowledged that hunger might be playing a part. We had eaten dinner unusually early the day before and then breakfast that morning had been light – not the bowl of warming, filling porridge I had been used to throughout the winter months. As I said, I’d played tennis three days in a row and, on reflection, I wasn’t eating enough, either to fuel my body or to help it heal after intense exercise. By mid-morning I was scarfing down one of Pret’s vegetarian breakfast rolls which alleviated the previously unexplained nausea. I wouldn’t say I was fixed. The seediness lingered in the background for the remainder of the day but it was an important lesson: that our bodies need carbohydrates. I was so relieved. I really have missed toast.

Nutrition

While I’m on the subject of nutrition, let me share a dinner table discussion from earlier this week. My husband raised the issue of rising school lunch costs which, for my younger son in particular, were beginning to spiral out of control. My son and his friends, like dozens of his peers, often visit the local shops to pick up their lunch. As this comprises a Greggs, a greasy cafe that serves overpriced chips and burgers, and the obligatory corner shop that warms up pot noodles for its hungry young customers, it is not beneficial – either for my child’s health or my husband’s wallet. None of these options cater for the healthier palette and the closest my son can get to a balanced meal (and by balanced I mean something that comprises carbs and protein so I am using that word very, very loosely) without breaking the bank, is a roll & square sausage, chips and a drink. Hardly a nutritious meal and the financial cost all adds up.

My husband has, over a period of time, tweaked his diet to the point that it’s not only simple but also incredibly healthy. There is always room for improvement but compared to the eating habits of his younger self, the difference is quite staggering. However, the passage of time seems to have eliminated the memory of his previously not-so-healthy eating habits and he now argues that one can eat healthily if they really want to whereas I would suggest the reality is a lot more complicated.

The fact is unhealthy, junk food options are cheaper and more accessible. When you walk into any supermarket in this country, you are faced with an array of sugary, high fat and processed delights to tempt your taste buds. It makes it tricky for even the most discerning customer to resist. If that’s the case for adults, imagine what it’s like for 12 year olds who are yet to fully comprehend the repercussions of an unhealthy diet. When you’re that age, you think you’re invincible – or, at least, you believe (if you even give it a moment’s thought) that bad things like strokes, diabetes and poor cardiovascular health happen to other, usually overweight people with mobility issues and pallid complexions. My child plays football several times a week and is always on the go. He wouldn’t equate poor concentration, disrupted sleep or low energy to his habits or food choices because he can’t see the connection.

And let’s get real for a second, how many 12 year olds in this country would choose a plate of lean protein, wholegrains and leafy green veg over something stodgier, like a burger and chips?

Aside from the fact we live in a culture where convenience is everything, it’s actually in our DNA to gravitate towards more calorie dense options (they release energy quickly but are often the unhealthier option – like white pasta and bread which are both processed and likely to spike blood sugar); this stems back to our ancestors who didn’t know where their next meal was coming from and who needed quick sources of energy in order to fight off predators.

Nowadays we can choose to eat healthier food but if our palettes are used to high fat or sugary food, crudities and hummus isn’t going to taste very good; at least not right away. It takes a few go’s for our palettes to get used to the taste and to adjust to the lack of salt and sugar and all the other ingredients that are often added to make food taste, well, tastier!

It was my younger son who pointed out, while we were on holiday in Munich, Germany, how difficult it was to buy sweets. They just aren’t prevalent or on display the way they are in this country. Instead, the city centre comprises a number of fruit stalls laid out around every hundred yards or so with a wide variety of low cost (relative to the UK), high quality fruit and vegetables. If you grow up with limited access to sweet treats and greater access to fruit and veg, eating the latter becomes the norm.

Discomfort for growth

Since recovering from anxiety and panic disorder, I make it my mission in life to step out my comfort zone as much as I can. I’m not talking about sky diving or anything like that; more everyday activities that cause discomfort and which I would previously have avoided. Avoidance is never an answer and in fact, only serves to perpetuate these feelings of anxiety we try to resist.

Besides, you don’t learn or grow if everything you do is familiar and comfortable. I can recall a sense of coasting through life shortly before my breakdown. I went out my way to avoid anything unpleasant that challenged me – public speaking, social occasions that triggered my social anxiety, dealing with difficult feelings, having difficult conversations and didn’t know what a boundary was let alone incorporate any to protect my mental wellbeing.

I grasped hold of anything that provided comfort or pleasure in the short-term but which often hindered me in the longer term – like smoking, drinking alcohol, excessive cardio-based exercise, compulsive spending.

Despite all my attempts to stay in my comfort zone and maintain an equilibrium, I was struggling with anxiety and overwhelm most of the time. I had no capacity for the hard stuff and wasted all my time and energy on activities and behaviours that were negatively impacting my mental health. Everything felt challenging so I stayed firmly in my comfort zone but because of that, I wasn’t growing as a person and I wasn’t learning from any of the mistakes I was making along the way.

As I recovered from panic disorder, I had to gradually build up to doing activities that, previously, had been anxiety free – and then to tackling the ones that had been causing me anxiety for some time.

Doing the school run, travelling on public transport, going back to work, meeting friends were all difficult to begin with. Being able to visit my parents in Arran for the first time which involved a bus, train and a ferry and then an overnight stay was a huge accomplishment. Travelling to other parts of the city and exploring new places was a rewarding way to build my confidence and to step out my comfort zone. Taking my older son to see Kendrick Lamar at the Hydro in Glasgow was a massive achievement, and then to Beyonce in Edinburgh the following year.

But it doesn’t stop there. In fact, it never stops. Recently I have recognised that coasting feeling again and when a week of challenging, potentially uncomfortable events and activities loomed, I recognised an opportunity to step out my comfort zone once, twice, several times, and to lean into the growth it could provide.

It began with a tennis match. I find this anxiety inducing because it involves a social element that challenges my feelings of social anxiety. As it was an away match, I knew there would be a post-match tea and there would be no easy escape as I was reliant on others for a lift home. What caused the most anxiety was not feeling particularly great physically and the last time I had played a match when I was feeling under par, out of obligation to my team mates and not wanting to let anybody down, I got injured. I guess you could say this was fresh in my mind and I worked myself into state of anxiety as I debated whether to ask for a replacement at short notice (when I knew the organiser was already struggling for numbers) or worse, to pull out altogether. I was tasked with the dilemma of playing whilst feeling unwell and potentially acquiring another injury, or not playing, never knowing if it would all turn out okay, or letting other people down. In the end, I did play. Very well, in fact: my partner and I won our match. We were the only couple from our side that won a single set; in fact, we won all three. The post-match tea, surprisingly, given my initial fears, was blessedly short and actually quite enjoyable with me being the chattiest of the lot!

I have been reading a book on anxiety by Sarah Wilson called, First, we make the beast beautiful. It is a wonderful book that provides a refreshingly different take on anxiety – one which looks to make this ailment or set of feelings something benevolent and useful rather than something to be feared or resisted or even medicalise. I find myself regretful that I haven’t take more notes or highlighted the sections that resonated most but three things that have stood out so far are:

Sarah’s research that shows a majority of people who are Bipolar do not regret that they have the condition because, when experiencing manic episodes, their creativity soars which seems to negate the downsides associated with the depressive episodes. I’m still learning about Bipolar but it’s the first time I’ve read a positive description of what it’s like to live with the condition; that does not depict it as something to be endured or suffered through but instead a condition that can be managed and even made beautiful. How inspiring and uplifting – empowering even – compared to much of the Doomsday literature on this condition and many other so-called mental health “disorders”.

Sarah describes “Life’s Naturals”: people who can, for example, observe a flower and appreciate its beauty then move on with their day; then there are people like Sarah and I (and I am now reassured there will be many others) who feel the need to analyse our feelings towards the beautiful flower – are we giving it the attention it deserves, are we appreciating it’s beauty enough? It describes a kind of existential angst and propensity to overthink every little event or interaction and this resonated greatly.

And then there is Showing Up. When dealing with anxiety, it is easier to avoid the things that contribute to these feelings; easier to avoid the thoughts, conversations, activities and events that we find difficult or challenging and that make us feel uncomfortable.

But outside our comfort zone is where growth happens. The situations that cause us the greatest anxiety or discomfort also provide the greatest opportunities to learn about ourselves, to learn valuable lessons and to grow as human beings.

The reality is that you can’t avoid negative events, unpleasant conversations or difficult situations. Life is full of these things. They are designed by their very nature to test us, for us to learn from, and to help us grow. The more we resist discomfort, the greater it becomes.

We have a tendency towards the negative and will often overthink and catastrophize: focusing on the worst cased scenario. We fail to recognise that something positive might come from the things we fear the most.

But what if we just show up and see what happens? If we show up for things, it lessens the feelings of guilt and shame that drag us down, because we haven’t flaked or avoided things. We’ve showed up. This builds confidence so we feel we can do it again, and again, and again. We can decide simply to show up and to see what happens. This kind of mindset take a lot of the pressure off because we have made a conscious decision to go with the flow, to let go of the need to know what happens, to lean into uncertainty and the fear this can produce.

I showed up for the tennis match. I leaned into my fear. And it turned out great. I was also anxious about the Volunteering Fair: all those people and so much potential for awkward conversations with strangers and fear of not being good enough. But I showed up. It wasn’t so great but that was largely down to circumstances out with my control. The lesson? To be grateful for all that I do have which others don’t .

On Saturday I hosted book group for my friends. This has caused me great anxiety in the past; hosting means no escape. You are there until the bitter end, even if you feel socially anxious or your social battery, after 4 hours of listening and trying to contribute to the conversation, has run dry, or at least until everybody leaves. I leaned into this with gratitude for being able to host a group of great women in the comfort of my own home and, do you know what, I never experienced any anxiety.

I’ve been reading a lot of great books recently.

In What I know for sure, Oprah Winfrey talks about the value of giving 100 percent at everything you do. That might look very different depending on where you’re at in that moment; if you’re feeling unwell or motivation is low, your performance or productivity might be lower than when you’re feeling uplifted and energised – but you still have the choice whether to give it your all or to put in minimal effort and reap less rewards. If you give it 100 percent, you might start off feeling low but find that in the end, you feel much better because you know you gave it your best. Showing up in this way is brilliant for confidence building and boosting self-esteem and feeling of self-worth.

This might not be the greatest post I’ve ever written but its a real, honest account of the last ten days or so and reflection of where I’m at right now.

Despite the self doubt and the procrastination and the perceived lack of time, I showed up.